Protest
by jackravenrobyn
Summary: Being locked in a cell together does wonders... AU


Murtagh never cried, a fact which only seemed to make Eragon even more upset and a single tear spring from his eye - one that was quickly brushed away. He took a calming breath and addressed his adoptive brother. "What do you think is going to happen to us 'tag?" The use of his childhood nickname surprised Murtagh, though he didn't show it.

He was filled with remorse; he _knew_ he shouldn't have brought Eragon with him, and look where he had gotten them! He glanced around the small cell through his ebony bangs and closed his eyes as another wave of guilt passed over him. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have dragged you into all of this." His best friend had been ill so he had asked his brother to go on the protest march with him.

The Government had put up the University fees _yet again_. It was unfortunate that there were people there who believed the marches were doing nothing. They were right, of course, and things got ugly very quickly. A lot of damage had been done by the time the police had gotten their riot gear on. Enraged, they had penned all the students in and arrested all those that had failed to escape in time.

All the prisons across town must have been full as Eragon and Murtagh were in a single man cell - and it was more than a little cramped. "No. It's nice being able to spend time with you." Murtagh knew his baby brother missed him when he moved out and closer to university a couple of years back, but he didn't realize he still did. Sure they shared an apartment, but Murtagh was never home - Eragon had probably seen more of him while he was in college than he did now.

Murtagh certainly hated how little of him he saw, but he nonetheless stayed away as he thought Eragon would prefer it that way. He decided then that he would stop avoiding the apartment on purpose in the future. "If that's how you feel, I'll try to stop by more." The grin on Eragons' face nearly split it in two, but Murtagh was just happy that Eragon was.

He cared for him in a different way to they way Eragon cared for him, and he knew keeping his distance was the only way to remedy that. However, he had never been able to deny his brother anything.

"Thank you! I don't like not knowing…you could be out every night getting laid for all I know!" Murtagh smirked, a hand playing absent-mindedly with the newly dyed tips of his hair. The bottom inch or so was now a bright, vivid red. The truth was so very far from it - he stayed with Thorn most nights. Unless he had a girl over, then he would have been forced to go back to the flat he shared with Eragon. He glanced sideways at him, catching the worry on his face. "I'm not into that kind of stuff anymore."

He had been, once. Now he was only into _someone_, not the actual sex, and it was liberating for him. "Someone's finally caught your attention then?" He said it jokingly, and Murtagh could not help but hurt at that. Sure he had a short attention span when it came to partners, but the last six months had thrown that out the window, and he was scared. Oh yes, he was so very scared of what he had become.

"Yeah, and they're not likely to lose it anytime soon either." It was true, too. He was so utterly infatuated that there was no foreseeable end to his curse. He knew he had brought it on himself, and there was no way he was going to let other people know just how insane he was.

He didn't notice the guard until he had entered the cell. Murtagh let his attention wander, Eragon was the more socially adept of the two, so he left him to it.

-XOX-

Eragon left to sort out their bail; probably because their mother threatened to disown Murtagh if he ever stepped out of line again. By the time he returned, Murtagh was starting to worry something had happened - maybe their mother had managed to kill Eragon over the phone.

Murtagh could not help but notice that, after his return, Eragon was sitting significantly closer to him. "Who is she?" He no longer sounded jokey, but was in fact uncharacteristically serious. Murtagh smirked, significantly amused by the change in his brother, and rose an eyebrow in questioning. Eragon turned crimson and coughed. "Or him, of course." His sexuality still made him uncomfortable then, just not as much as it once had. "Yeah, you know him."

Murtagh looked at the hardened tips of his fingers that only came from years of playing guitar. He didn't like the turn of conversation, and was trying vainly to think of a way out. "He's straight, so it doesn't matter anyway." The look of sheer hurt that crossed Eragons' face was too painful to look at; he didn't want to make him hurt, accidental or otherwise. "Just leave it, it doesn't matter." It did matter and it hurt every time he looked at him.

He saw the blond open his mouth to retaliate, but got there first. "Did you sort the bail? Will they let us out now or in the morning?" Murtagh could tell that it was still troubling Eragon, but vastly preferred it to their previous topic of conversation.

-XOX-

After answering Murtaghs' question, the cell was silent until Eragons friend arrived to pay the bail. Only the sound of the others' breathing could comfort them in the cramped prison.

Murtagh was more than a little surprised to see Saphira instead of their mother arrive to pay the bail. To be honest, he was more afraid of her than he was of his own mother, and she was one scary woman. Murtagh watched uneasily at the long, wordless exchange between Eragon and Saphira. He was always creeped out when they did that because somehow they managed to have a whole conversation in a single glance. Eragon broke eye contact and sighed in resignation, walking sullenly from the cell.

Murtagh got up to follow him, only to find Saphira barring his way. "I'm not finished with you yet, Rider." Ever since the first time they had met, Saphira only ever called him by his last name. Murtagh groaned and sank back onto the hard wooden bench. He looked up into her eerie grey eyes and waited. "I don't understand that shit you and Eragon do, remember?" He pulled a face; he was sure she had been trying that wordless communication of hers. Saphira closed her eyes and slowly counted to ten - no matter how little effort he put in, Murtagh always infuriated her.

"He cares more than you know." Murtagh waited for her to elaborate, but she didn't. "What do you-" Her temper snapped at his ignorance. "He paid the bail himself! That's one hell of a lot of money!" She paused in the doorway, and continued in a quieter voice "He'd been saving to get you something special for your 23rd. Whatever it was it was pretty damn expensive and I have no doubt that he's spent the entire year saving to get that much." With that she left, making Murtagh feel suddenly terrible.

-XOX-

He wandered the streets for an hour or two before returning to the flat. Eragon was sitting on the mattress, swollen eyes and blotchy face speaking for themselves that he had been crying. "You came. I didn't think you would." He looked and sounded so happy that more than one pang of guilt resonated through Murtaghs' heart. He was almost overwhelmed by the urge to go over and hug him, but managed to hold back.

"I'll always be here when you need me." It was true; if possible he would be, and if not he would make himself be there, no matter what. "Well, right now I need you for heat, so get over here and warm me up." The heating in the flat was bust and Murtagh briefly wondered how Eragon had survived for so long.

The situation itself was hardly abnormal; there was only a double mattress on the floor and without a sofa around they had to share. Murtagh pulled off his jacket and shirt with some ease - while Eragon shyly averted his eyes - but soon came to the problem of his overly tight skinny jeans. He spent a minute or two struggling with them - which attracted Eragons' amused gaze - before falling back onto the mattress and proceeding to painstakingly wriggle out of them.

By the time they were off, Eragon was laughing uncontrollably. "Hey, I never said it didn't hurt to look as good as I do." If anything, Eragons' laughter only intensified.

-XOX-

Murtagh woke to Eragon playing with the red tips of his hair, winding it around his fingers and so forth. He groaned when the realization of how they were positioned set in; Murtagh had his arm around Eragons' bare waist and was holding him possessively to his side. Eragon, assuming the groan was from waking up, tugged on the clump of hair between his fingers to indicate what he was talking about when he said "It's so pretty."

Murtagh, who didn't want his growing unease to turn into excitement, quickly disentangled himself and sat up sharply, exposing his scar to his brother. He had gotten it from one of his fathers' drunken rampages. His mother had woken him up in the middle of the night not a week later and they had fled together.

In that sense, he and Eragon weren't actually blood related, as he was the child from Broms' previous marriage. The scar was a huge thing on his back and he was very self conscious about it ever since he had gotten it. Even leaving it exposed to Eragon right now was making him uncomfortable. He jumped when cool fingers began absent-mindedly tracing it from one end to the other, then back again.

"Who is he? 'tag, please tell me." Murtagh couldn't believe Eragon was back on that topic again after almost refusing point blank to talk about it. "I need to know! Please! I love you and-" It was too good to be true, Murtagh knew that. He let out a humourless laugh and stood up. "No, you don't. you don't know the meaning!"

Murtagh hadn't meant to shout - he was all too aware of how much he sounded like his father when he did. And he must have been one scary man if he managed to intimidate his mother. He only knew he sounded like Morzan when he was angry because when he was his mother had collapsed, crying and begging for mercy. It had taken him the best part of an hour to convince her that he _wasn't _Morzan and that he couldn't get her. Eragon had been there the entire time and knew the reason he rarely got angry was to hide the terrible temper that he had inherited.

Eragon had blanched at the tiny flare of his temper, but was still standing strong and not breaking eye contact. Murtagh looked away, feeling his face flush red, and muttered that he was going to take a shower.

He managed to contain himself until he was in the cubicle, where remorse and self loathing washed over him. He punched the tile wall hard, splitting the skin on his knuckles and hearing a surprised yelp from Eragon in the next room. He stood there, stock still a long time after the water had turned cold.

"'tag! you'll make yourself ill!" Silence. Murtagh preferred the quiet and didn't feel like finding his tongue. "Don't make me come in there!" Eragon waited for a response bur received none. He pushed open the door and silently slipped the bolt into place. He was going to try his damn hardest to turn it into an ambush.

Murtagh saw him coming out of the corner of his eye - through the now unmisted door of the shower. He still didn't move, he didn't even make a sound. Eragon had to admit that he enjoyed the view, but shook himself out of his momentary haze and moved on. If Murtagh noticed the shower door open, he didn't show it. He stayed where he was, consumed in a cocoon of pain and self loathing.

"Jesus! How can you stand it this cold!" Eragon reached around the skinny body in front of him and turned off the water. Still there was no reaction from the man in front of him. Eragon had seen him like this before and had a vague idea of how to snap him out of his stupor. However, he completely ignored what his instincts were telling him to do and led the cooperative form from the cubicle.

He picked up a towel from the radiator and proceeded to dry him, stretching to do his hair first. Once he reached the other boys' stomach, Murtagh finally spoke up.

"Just…stop teasing me, please" There was real agony in these words, which made Eragon smile as something clicked in his head. "No, you don't get it. I love you. I'm _in love _with you. Why can't you see that?" Murtagh told himself that he had misheard, misunderstood the meaning. "You don't mean it. Stop saying such things."

Eragon was confused as to why Murtagh was refusing to believe him, so he decided to change tactics. He pulled Murtaghs' head down, only to crush their lips together. Murtagh was still for a moment, thoroughly shocked. He reacted fast, moving his lips against the others. He pulled away "But why…?" Eragon shook his head in exasperation. "I've been trying to tell you since we got stuck in that cell last night! I love you!"

-XOX-

Eragon had told Murtagh about how his and Saphiras' no-talking-conversations worked, and Murtagh was hell bent on freaking her out. She knew about him and Eragon, of course, and he would use that to his full advantage. He let her in when she knocked.

"Eragon's in the shower…cleaning up." He smirked and made eye contact with her, letting images flick through his mind of the reasons behind Eragon needing to clean up in the first place. She kept eye contact for a moment, before blinking and looking away. "You're disgusting." Murtagh was elated that he had gotten to her, but wanted to do more. "He was the one who asked me to. He was the one begging for more, if I remember rightly…" She shuddered, accidentally making eye contact again.

Saphira screamed in frustration just as Eragon entered the room. He looked between the two of them, "What's going on?" Murtagh opened his mouth to say something pervy, but Saphira got there first. "Never mind! Lets go!" Eragon was still suspicious, however.

"But-"

"_Now, _Eragon! I can't spend another minute with him!" She ushered him out of the door and - once it was closed- Murtagh chuckled to himself, glad he had finally found a way of annoying her on purpose.


End file.
